I narrow my eyes, inching closer to Jase. “It’s a low blow killing a man for trying to leave.”

Jimmy laughs, a throaty noise that reverberates around the cavernous parking lot.

“That’s not why he was killed,” Jimmy replies, “and we all know it. You take something that doesn’t belong to you, and you pay the price.”

I roll my eyes. “If you’re talking about Mariana—”

“I’m talking about the fucking money,” he spits, only three steps separating us now. “I’m talking about him trying to take Dornan’s son.”

He flicks his gaze over to Jase, a look of distaste evident as he assesses him.

Which is when I act.

I don’t even think. I react to the small window of opportunity I’ve been given. Without tearing my gaze from Jimmy, I wrench my arm free from Jase’s grip and reach my hand into the back of his waistband. I pluck the gun from the space between his warm skin and denim jeans, and raise it to Jimmy’s smug face.

The smug look vanishes from his face, only to be replaced by bitter loathing. I smile cruelly, the gun heavy in my steady hand.

“You always were too slow, Jimmy. That’s why they made you low rank, remember?”

Jibing him about his low status in the club despite his years of service works an absolute charm. I can practically see the steam billowing from his ears.

I place my finger on the trigger of the gun. “Reckon you can close your eyes before I blow your head off?” I ask him, a shit-eating grin plastered on my face. Jimmy’s lip curls up, and he opens his mouth to say something when I’m violently slammed against the car by the one person I thought would back me up.

Fuck.

I haven’t been watching Jase, and that’s my foolish mistake. Before my finger can pull the trigger, he tackles me, one arm around my throat in a headlock, the other hand wrenching the gun from my grip. I hold on as long as I can, but my battle is futile. He’s got sixty pounds or more on me, and he’s much stronger than I am. He forces my wrist back painfully and I open my grip with a frustrated cry, my heart ripped into a million shreds as I realize Jase is not on my side.

He’s against me.

I love him. I fucking love him! And he’s got me pinned over the hood of his car, his hard chest locking me in place as I struggle against his grip.

Fuck.

“Stop struggling,” he commands, and I do. Not because I want to obey him. But because I may as well conserve my energy.

All the fight goes out of me and I let myself go limp. Seemingly satisfied, he lets go of me, steps back and shoves the gun back in his waistband, clicking his fingers at Jimmy. I slowly straighten, my back still resting on the car.

“Give me your gun, Jimbo,” he says. “I gotta take this bitch and get rid of her.”

Jimmy looks at Jase incredulously. “You have a gun.”

Jase gives him a withering look. “It’s registered. Yours isn’t.”

Jimmy looks at Jase for a moment, apparently undecided as he hovers his hand over his shoulder holster.

Jase looks impatient. “Jimmy! I’ll swap you, OK?” He pulls his gun out and shoves it into Jimmy’s hand, clicking his fingers again. “Come on. I’d let you have a go at her, but someone might see. Come with me and I’ll let you fuck her before I shoot her.”

Bitter tears bite at my eyes as those words come out of his mouth. I’ve never felt so betrayed in my entire existence. This isn’t him. This isn’t the boy who risked his own life fighting against his father’s grip as his brothers took turns destroying me.

In this moment, I’ve never felt so devastated. It was all for nothing.

Jimmy’s eyes light up at that as he withdraws his gun and slaps it in Jase’s open palm. “You got yourself a deal,” he says, taking the gun and approaching me. I consider trying to run, but I know from experience that bullets are faster than any feet.

He brings the gun up to my face and uses it to brush my stringy hair aside. Sadness is replaced by pure and utter hatred, and if looks could kill, he’d be on the ground dead right now.

“I know how to go slow,” he says, chuckling. “I’ll fuck you real slow before you get your bullet, little Julie.”

“You haven’t seen your dick in twenty years, Jimmy,” I spit, poking his round belly with the tip of my finger. “But good luck with that.”

Jimmy slaps me across the face with his free hand, hard enough that I taste blood on my tongue.

“Same smart mouth,” he says to both of us. “But she looks totally different. You sure this is John’s girl?”

Jase snorts. “Slut got a makeover.”

I shrink back as Jimmy presses me against the car, his foul breath warm and sour on my face. He snakes his free hand down between my legs and cups it there, squeezing firmly.

“You got real pretty, Julie,” he says, bringing that hand up to squeeze my breast. It’s the one Dornan bit, and I wince.

“And you got real—” I don’t get to finish my sentence, because there’s a deafening blast right in front of me, and suddenly Jimmy isn’t there. I mean, he is, but he’s got a bullet in the side of his head and bits of him have splattered onto my face and arms. As if in slow motion, he topples to the ground, his eyes wide open and a river of dark red blood gushing from his temples. Looks like the bullet went in one side of his head and clean out the other.

Bitter drops of liquid cling to my tongue and I retch painfully. His blood. His blood is in my mouth. I vomit violently beside his body, choking on acidic saliva.

Tastes like shit, but it’s better than his blood, at least.

I turn my head to see Jase talking at me, but I can’t hear him. It’s at that moment I realize I’ve been completely deafened by the blast of the gunshot. I watch his mouth move, as he shakes me and makes animated gestures with his hands.

You’re an excellent actress. His words, from before, come back to me in the night.

A wry smile spreads across my face as I begin to understand what he’s done. Killed a Gypsy Brother. For me. The words escape my mouth before I can stop myself.

“You’re an excellent actor,” I say, barely able to hear myself speak as I sway on my feet.

Jase blinks and stares at me with a look so scathing, it makes my stomach turn.

“Who says I was acting?” he growls, and I only know that’s what he’s saying because I’m watching his lips move.

The smile on my face is still spreading wider as everything goes black and I pass the fuck out.

For a long time, I drift in and out. My head feels uncomfortably full, like it’s been stuffed with cotton wool, and my ears throb and ring to the beat of my pulse. Everything is either hurting or numb, and I just know the pain is only going to get worse as time goes on.

Something rouses me from my napping and I sit up straight, suddenly alarmed. I’m in Jase’s car, strapped in to the passenger seat. But I’m alone, parked under a dying willow tree that flanks a tiny, run-down gas station. I peer through the passenger window, looking for signs of Jase.

Nothing.

It’s dark, and I’m dying to pee.

Stretching painfully, I unbuckle my belt and shove it off me, opening my door. I can vaguely hear it creak as it opens, which is good, because it must mean I’m starting to get a little bit of hearing back. Hoisting myself out of Jase’s car, I carefully shut the door behind me and hobble past a single line of rusted gasoline pumps to the store entrance.

I’m almost at the door when Jase barrels out, almost knocking me over. At first I think he’s moving really fast until I realize I’m the one moving really slowly, through soupy, muddy air that weighs me down.

“What are you doing out of the car?” he asks, shifting his paper grocery bags to one arm and guiding me with the other. His face is pinched and tired, worried and exhausted. All my fault. Though to be honest, I’m too exhausted to care very much.